


got a bed with your name on it

by ourlovelybones



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: College AU, M/M, based off of a song, college party, drunk!newt is extra af, lots of fluff, you were my best four years universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlovelybones/pseuds/ourlovelybones
Summary: the one where Newt gets wasted at their college graduation party and only has one goal in his hazy mind for the night: to fuck his boyfriend, Thomas.{loosely based off of 'dance to this' by troye sivan and ariana grande | based in the "you were my best four years" universe}





	got a bed with your name on it

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of my previous fanfics: "you were my best four years" + "come on baby with me we're gonna fly away" which you definitely don't have to read bc they're incredibly long, but just as a reference note x

_under the kitchen lights_

_you still look like dynamite_

 

For someone who hates parties, it doesn’t take much for Newt to get properly _wasted_.

On the night of their college graduation, Minho throws one last major wild party at their apartment before they’re all to go their separate ways. Everyone, including Gally and his goons, were invited last minute to the small two-bedroom apartment near campus that the three boys shared, that’s now booming with loud music and littered with red solo cups. 

Since he’s usually taking care of Thomas or Minho at any given moment, Newt never has time to get pissed drunk. He’s happy to mingle around the party for a few minutes, maybe have a can of beer or finish whatever Thomas has in his hand at the moment, but he never stays for long and always heads back inside their bedroom to play video games or watch Netflix.  That night, since they’re all celebrating their college graduation, he’s been convinced by his best friends into sticking around for a few more minutes than usual. One beer turns into two more beers, then three more and then he’s suddenly taking shots with Minho and then shot-gunning with Thomas _inside_ the tub of their bathroom. 

At one point he’s shouting to Frypan, his good bud from his Psychology class from their first year of university, “FUCK the white male patriarchy! When are we going to use our platforms of privilege to enact change on behalf of underrepresented minorities whose voices are constantly being overlooked because of institutionalized racism, sexism, and even fucking homophobia? It’s fucking 2018 and we’re still fighting for people to love one another? For families not to be torn apart at the border cruelly because they’re seeking better opportunities?”

Frypan just watches him with wide eyes and chuckles. “Damn Newt, man we need to get you drunk more often.”

An arm slinks around his shoulders at that moment and Thomas’s intoxicating axe cologne wafts into the air. “That’s what I’m always saying! You should hear him when he gets started about income inequality in the U.K.”

This nearly triggers Newt into launching a full rant against the imbalanced systems of power put in place in his home country, but he catches sight of his boyfriend whom he hasn’t seen since they were shotgunning beers in the bathroom for “privacy” almost twenty minutes ago. Even under the dim kitchen lights, Thomas looks like heaven with his soft brown eyes glowing from all the alcohol, resulting in a light pink color on his cheeks. His hair had grown out in the past four months, since they’d started their final semester of university, but it’s a ruffled mess - probably from Newt running his fingers through it so much while they were making out earlier. He forgets his rant about income inequality momentarily before a very important declaration runs through his hazy mind and out of his mouth:

“I am going to fuck you tonight.”

“ _Newt, I’m right here!”_ Frypan exclaims in horror, covering his ears while Thomas’s pretty eyes widen in shock, and his mouth widens too, into a perfect shape that would fit perfectly around Newt’s - “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth!?”

 

_and i wanna end up on you_

_oh, we don’t need no place to go_

 

“It’s fucking illegal how hot he is.” Harriet complains. Newt’s sitting on the couch with her and his sister, all three of them too drunk to be standing up without the room spinning. Harriet’s fanning herself as she and Sonya fawn over some guy on the other side of the room, where Gally and his goons are crowded around the DJ table. A dreamy pop playlist is blaring through the speakers, a weird change from the usual hip hop and rap Minho plays to get everyone “in the mood.”

“He’s so hot.” Sonya agrees enthusiastically, leaning over Newt to speak to Harriet. “Do you think he’s single?”

Newt tries to push her off of him and reach for his beer, but his limbs feel like absolute jelly.

“He can’t be in a relationship while at this kind of a party. Everyone knows you don’t go to Minho’s parties with a date - unless it’s the annual Valentines Day one.”

Sonya sighs. “He’s so hot. I wanna ride him like a rollercoaster.”

Normally, Newt _hates_ these kinds of conversations with his sister because it was just weird talking about sex with Sonya. They were closer than most siblings were - which could stem from the fact that they thought they were twins for the majority of their lives - but he had just accepted that he would never feel comfortable talking about sex with her. 

Tonight, however, he’s anything but sober and his boyfriend is too pretty and angelic not to talk about in this state of mind. Thomas is playing beer pong with Teresa against his ex-girlfriend, Brenda, and her new boyfriend, Alby, and Newt can hear his laugh clearly over the music. Thomas is the perfect American athlete, without the awful American athlete personality, and takes pride in his beer pong skills - one of the many things Newt adores about him.

But right now he couldn’t give a fuck that Thomas just threw the ball perfectly into the cup across the table and was winning the game for him and Teresa.

“I wanna ride Tommy.”

Harriet bursts out cackling beside him and Sonya just elbows him in the shoulder. “We’re not talking about you right now! I haven’t gotten laid in _months.”_

“It’s your fault for being so priggish.”

Harriet starts laughing so hard, she has to clutch her sides to keep from wheezing while Sonya just elbows him even harder. “I’m not priggish, you wanker! I’m _selective_. There’s a difference, arsehole!”

Newt rolls his eyes and elbows her back. “And you’re too whiny. That guy over there isn’t even that attractive and you’re always complaining about something. _I_ have a real problem - my boyfriend is too focused on his stupid game to pay attention to me.”

“You both sound like rotten, spoiled brats.” Harriet intervenes, reaching over to stop Sonya from swinging at Newt. Newt was so out of it, he wouldn’t have even felt her fist connect with his cheekbone. 

“He’s the spoilt brat.” Sonya whines, crossing her arms over her chest. “He gets to have sex whenever he wants and I can’t even get a guy’s number these days. I mean, is there something wrong with me?”

Harriet shoves a can of beer into Newt’s hand, tipping it towards his mouth, before he can let out a retort. 

“I just feel like ever since my birthday, I haven’t been able to get one _good_ guy. They all just want to talk about their stupid ‘kicks’ or sports teams or get my nudes.”

Newt nearly snorts beer out of his nose, after unawarely drinking the entire can. “Remember when you almost sent your nudes to Mum and Dad?”

Sonya hits him again but he doesn’t even feel it. He can tell she’s still complaining in her whiny, high-pitched voice, but his attention is drawn somewhere else. 

Thomas has just done something apparently very significant in the world of beer pong, as Teresa’s cheering him on and giving him high fives. Brenda and Alby are rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at each other. But Newt’s eyes are on Thomas, as they always are, by the way he raises his arms in the air, his biceps exposed and curling. By the way his t-shirt rises and his shaped and toned abs are calling out Newt’s name right now. 

The temperature in the already hot room rises even more when Thomas looks over Newt’s way, pride and the biggest smile written all over his face. “Newt, come here!”

Newt’s already gotten up from the couch before Thomas can even blink, but he forgets just _how_ drunk he is. The room spins inhumanely fast and he’s about to topple over and land face first onto the floor when that strong smell of Axe wafts into his nose again and that strong arm is holding his waist for support.

“I got you, love.” Thomas’s low voice is in his ear. If Newt tilts his head like this, just like this so that he’s completely leaning his drunk, lifeless body onto Thomas for full support, he can lift up his lips to Thomas’s exposed, warm neck.

“Tommy, it’s fucking illegal how hot you are.”

Thomas laughs, whether from Newt’s comment or his lips ticking his skin, Newt will never know. “Love you.”

“We are going to have sex.”

“You mentioned this earlier, in front of Frypan I might add. He nearly choked on his beer after that. We might be responsible for his hospital bill if we so much as kiss in front of him.”

“So let’s go to the bedroom.” Newt raises his eyebrows hopefully, staring into Thomas’s eyes but feeling dizzy enough to actually swoon in front of him. “You know what I wanna do.”

“I do,” Thomas gives him the softest, fondest smile. “But you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Newt says, trying to stand up on his own before the world starts spinning and Thomas just reaches for him again.

“And all of our friends are here, for possibly the last time we’ll all be together for a very long time. We have to enjoy this with them - even if we might not remember it ever again.”

Words are most definitely coming out of Thomas’s mouth, but Newt’s only hearing two percent of them. He nods his head vigorously, despite how queasy that makes his stomach. “Great, so let’s fuck.”

“Let’s sit you down before you throw up.”

 

_just put on the radio_

_you know what i wanna do_

 

“You’ve been giving him bedroom eyes all night.” Minho observes, a little while later when he and Newt have stepped outside for fresh air. “The kind of bedroom eyes where I feel like I’m going to have to sleep over Teresa’s apartment tonight.”

“You are.”

“But bro, I wanted _her_ to sleep over here. Can’t you keep it in your pants til tomorrow or something?”

Newt looks at him horrified, but is even more horrified to see three Minho’s staring back at him. He grips their porch railing for more support to keep him from rocking side to side and blinks again. “At least you two _have_ another place you can go. We both live here.”

“Yeah, but her place is so far! It’s on the other side of town and we’d have to take like a twenty minute cab ride over there.” Minho whines and Newt wants to smack him just like Sonya. “Do you see how fucking perfect she looks tonight? Man, I’m on the same boat as you are - I just wanna rip off her clothes right here, right now and kiss her all night.”

Newt raises his eyebrows at Minho’s choice of verb, again surprised by just how much his best friend has changed over their past few years of university. “Well, I want to fuck Tommy and that’s more important.”

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

“Here, how about this - we play a drinking game to see who gets to claim the apartment for the night.”

Somewhere in his mind, Newt is aware of just how drunk he is and how he can barely stand up without falling over. But whenever he’s drunk, he gains about ten pounds of confidence and right now he’s _killing_ it. He’s so sure of this, he could totally beat Minho in a drinking game.

“Good that.” Newt says boldly and lifts his body off of the railing, nearly toppling over himself in the process. But he collects himself together - as much as he can while on the brink of blacking out - and walks straight into the front door, in his effort to get back inside.

Meanwhile, Minho’s just laughing like a complete prick as he effortlessly sidesteps Newt and opens the door for him. “You sure you don’t wanna just admit defeat now?”

Newt’s starting to see stars in front of him and he thinks that lying down on the nice, cool concrete outside would probably be good for him. He should just lie down and rest his poor head from being bumped into the front door -

But _no_. He’s not going to be kicked out from his own apartment just so Minho can have loud sex with his girlfriend, who has her _own_ apartment. He stomps inside behind Minho, back into their sweltering living room where the party still hasn’t begun to die down even though it’s close to two in the morning. Even Gally and his friends are still there, hanging around the ping pong table and talking to Frypan and Aris.

“Listen up, everybody!” Minho announces to the room. “Newt and I want to play a game.”

Absolutely no one pays attention to him over the blaring music and their own preoccupations. Harriet and Sonya are flirting with two guys who always seem to come to their parties, but Newt can never figure out who they are by name. Gally and Frypan are laughing at each other - or _with_ each other, since they seem to be huddled closer together than normal. 

“Newt and I want to play a drinking game, so everybody listen up!” Minho shouts again, cupping his hands over his mouth to be heard better. Sonya looks over at the two of them and rolls her eyes. 

Gally looks unamused. “What kind of drinking game?”

“And why?” Harriet asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re both already wasted.”

“We’re gonna play Flip Cup. Newt and I’ll pick teams and whoever’s team wins, gets to have the apartment for the night.”

Everybody starts groaning and rolling their eyes, shouting things back at Minho that Newt can’t quite comprehend. The room is starting to spin again and it’s completely stifling so his feet start moving before his brain does. The door to the bedroom he shares with Thomas is open and he’s walking towards it, heading inside before he realizes he’s even left the living room and Minho’s game.

Inside, his jaw drops at the sight of Thomas in the process of putting a new shirt on, his back to Newt and his muscles flexing in the moonlight coming in from the window. 

“Take that back off right now.”

Thomas whirls around in surprise, relaxing once he realizes that it’s only Newt at the door. “Baby, you’re drunk.”

“Off of your love!”

“Oh my God, am I really this bad when I’m drunk?”

If he were sober, Newt would tell Thomas just how atrocious his puns were when he was wasted. 

_"Are you a fruit? Because you’re the apple of my eye!”_

_No, Tommy, I don’t think that’s quite way how it goes._

_“If we were florists and we got married, we’d be an arranged marriage.”_

_Dear God, Tommy, for the love of God -_ _please_ _stop._

_“Okay, okay pretend I’m a proton and you’re an electron - I am positively attracted to you!”_

_…. you are so bloody lucky I love you._

But for now, he just shrugs and smiles at Thomas, ready to jump on him and kiss him, fuck him, hug him, love him - not necessarily all in that order - when they’re startled by a new voice behind them.

“Tom, I got the towel for you - oh hey, Newt! I’ve barely seen you all night.” Teresa says, coming into their room and tossing a towel at Thomas. “That one spilled beer all over himself and had to change clothes. How are you?”

“Drunk.” Thomas answers for him, rubbing the towel over his hair. “Drunk and making bad puns.”

Newt has every intention of making a witty retort to that, but he becomes distracted by Thomas’s arms flexing over his head as he tries to dry the beer out of his hair. The little, devilish smirk on Thomas's face doesn’t help matters much. _Smug bastard._

Teresa chuckles, momentarily reminding Newt that they’re still not alone. “Minho’s not much better. He gets super cheesy and starts reciting romance movies. I should’ve known when I heard about the time he watched The Notebook by himself. I should go find him and make sure he’s not causing any trouble.”

His best friend’s name sets off a lightbulb in Newt’s head. “He’s in the living room talking about our drinking game.”

“Your what?” Thomas asks, frowning. 

“We were going to have a drinking game to see who gets the apartment to have _really_ loud sex for tonight.” Newt says casually.

Both Thomas and Teresa’s eyes widen and jaws drop comically, blushing madly because of all the beer or because of the embarrassment, Newt will never know. Teresa rushes out of the room, exclaiming loudly, “Minho, don’t tell people we’re going to have really loud sex! And why would we stay here? My apartment is so much nicer and we don’t have to worry about beer stains all over the carpet!”

 

_we can just dance to this_

_don’t take much to start me_

 

Newt is just _finally_ making the most progress towards the goal he has been aiming towards this whole night, sprawled over Thomas in their bathtub as he kisses him heavily, when his sister bursts into the bathroom.

They’d been shotgunning again, but this time exhaling smoke into each other’s mouths while laughing, now completely high off their asses. It was too hot and filled with people everywhere else in the apartment, and lying on top of each other in the bathtub seemed like a good enough option.

Sonya bursts in, as she normally does, to the sight of Newt trying to unzip Thomas’s jeans, and screams in horror, as she normally does. “Oh my God, my eyes!”

“Do you have a fucking fetish for walking in at the worst possible time?” Newt snaps at her, leaning back and trying to control his heartbeat. Thomas attempts to hide himself by pulling the shower curtain over him, trying to suppress his chuckle.

“ _Some_ people have to actually use the toilet, ever thought about that you twat?” Sonya snaps back, but doesn’t turn around and leave like a normal person would do. Instead, she actually comes inside of the bathroom and closes the door.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I have to pee.”

“Not in here!” Newt’s voice raises several octaves and Thomas’s body starts shaking with laughter. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Why wouldn’t you ever think someone might actually need to use the toilet?” Sonya mutters, as she actually unzips her own skirt and gets into a squatting position. Newt squawks in horror and jumps out of the tub, tumbling all over the place until he’s managed to hide himself behind the bathroom door closet. “I want to hook up with this boy but I had to pee and make sure I look decent.”

“You look great tonight.” Thomas says encouragingly, his voice muffled by the shower curtain. “Who is it?”

“Marcus! He’s the one in the green shirt and is infinitely hot. I want to have his children.”

“Can you _leave_ already?” Newt yells in frustration, already feeling his body dying down from the excitement he was building up with Thomas just moments prior before the Satan creature walked in. He bangs his head against the door in frustration, but immediately becomes dizzy and curses under his breath.

The toilet flushes and when he hears the water from the sink start running, he comes out from behind the door. Sonya’s staring at her reflection in the mirror but looks at Newt with a pout on her face. “Newt, I really need your help and you’re being such a twat. Harriet’s hooking up with this cute boy and I’m trying to hook up with his friend but I really think there’s something seriously wrong with me.”

“Newt!” Thomas exclaims, resurfacing from under the shower curtain, and covering his mouth as if that would magically cover Newt’s. 

Newt’s drunk as a sailor and higher than a kite, but he’s not _cruel_. He leans his weight against the sink and looks her dead in the eyes, “There’s nothing wrong with _you_ , Sonya. You’re the best any bloke could ever ask for.”

Sonya rolls her tearful eyes, still pouting. “You’re just saying that cause you’re my brother.”

“And as your brother, I know you’re the best any bloke could ever ask for. You whine and complain all the time but that’s because you like things to be perfect, and it’s one of the nicest things about you in fact. How much you care for other people, and how much you want them to be happy too.”

A tear does roll down Sonya’s face but she just lunges towards Newt in a bone-crushing hug, that very nearly knocks him off of his feet. “I love you, baby brother! Oh, what am I going to do without you around?”

She knows he doesn’t want her to go back to London, and he knows she doesn’t want him to say that out loud. But he’s drunk enough to say it anyways, to wrap his arms around the only person who’s always been there for him - whether he wanted her there or not - and ask her to, “Stay. Because I have no idea what I’m going to do without you.”

 

_we can just dance to this_

_push up on my body_

 

By the time the party has finally died down, it’s nearly 5:30 in the morning and the sunlight is peaking through the horizon. 

Minho’s long gone, having left with Teresa to take a cab ride over to her apartment and spend the night, giving Newt and Thomas his “blessing to have the loudest sex, even the neighbors file a complaint.” Sonya and Harriet went back to their apartment after Newt told him how nice it was that they decided they were going to make a plan to find happiness within themselves but that they needed to do that _anywhere_ _else_. Brenda and Alby had rented a hotel room across town and left shortly after Teresa and Minho, Gally and Frypan left together despite coming separately.

Newt’s sprawled out on their bed, the moonlight hitting his naked stomach. He’d abandoned his shirt once the last guest had left and he’d been physically unable to tolerate how hot their apartment had gotten any further. 

Thomas comes into the room and smiles before closing the door. He comes to the bed and kisses Newt gently, before taking off his own shirt and kicking his shoes off by the door. He starts humming to himself as he unties Newt’s sneaker laces.

“Tommy.”

“Yes, love?”

“Have you always had two ears?”

Thomas can barely contain his laugh, but tries, to the best of his ability while taking Newt’s sneakers off of him. “Yes, as far as I can remember. Have you?”

Newt touches his left ear gingerly and in concern. “I think this one just grew on me. Tonight. Was it something I drank?”

“Maybe it was the weed. You do remember shotgunning that with me, right?”

“We bought a shotgun?! Did we kill somebody named Weed?”

Thomas’s angelic laughs rings throughout the room and he finally climbs into bed, beside Newt. “No, don’t worry. Weed’s alright, I think. He’s still in that plastic baggie under the sink.”

“Oh, good. Hope he’s comfortable.”

“He’ll be fine as long as Teresa doesn’t get to him.”

Newt raises his eyebrows. “But she’s having really loud sex with Minho so she shouldn’t be able to have him too.”

In reality, Thomas is explaining to Newt that Weed is not actually a person Minho needs to be concerned about, but in his mind, Newt’s remembering that _he_ should be having really loud sex with Thomas right this instant.

In his mind, he’s coming off like a sexy Orlando Bloom during his Pirates of the Caribbean era as he makes a graceful attempt to roll on top of his boyfriend.

Instead, he rolls the opposite way and onto the floor.

“Newt, are you all right?!” Thomas’s voice is laced heavily with concern as he jumps off the bed and helps Newt back up.

Newt nods, smirking the sexy kind of smirk Orlando Bloom does in the Pirate movies. He is _killing_ it right now.

Thomas chuckles again and helps Newt back onto the bed, before climbing carefully back into it too.

“We’re going to have really loud sex.” Newt reminds him, trying to roll himself back onto Thomas’s toned abs and perfect body.

Thomas shifts, making it harder for Newt to complete this mission. “You’re drunk, my love. We’re going to do that another night.”

“What?” Newt stops moving and so does his heart. “What if I grow a third ear? You’re not going to find me attractive with _three_ ears. We need to have sex right now.”

“You could have twenty ears and I’d still think you were the most attractive human on the planet.”

“Oh my God, I’m going to have _twenty_ ears?!” Newt panics and covers the side of his head with his hands. 

“No, no, no!” Thomas says with a smile, his hands reaching for Newt’s. “You’re going to have two ears. Just like me.”

Newt looks warily at Thomas’s head. “You look good with two ears.”

“Thanks. So do you.” Thomas kisses the top of Newt’s head, and one time chastely on his lips. “Love you.”

Newt smiles back at him, the bright sunlight already peaking through their window, and closes his eyes as he rests his head on Thomas’s chest. “Love you, Tommy.”

 

_you know we’ve already seen all of the party_

_we can just dance to this_

**Author's Note:**

> "DANCE TO THIS" is such a bop. it slightly revived my nightmare of writers' block. since this takes place in the 'come on baby with me we're gonna fly away'/'you were my best four years' universe, maybe consider it a looooooong overdue update??
> 
> i love you all a lot. your comments inspire me to keep writing stories, and i hope that inspiration will slap me across the face soon so i can keep writing. come talk to me at happydyIan (capital i not l) on tweeter or ourlovelybones on tumblr :)) =
> 
> i had more i wanted to say but it's 2am and i just really needed to get this out in the universe fjkdhfsd
> 
> let me know if you liked it, hated it, or what you thought of this x


End file.
